


What a Girl Wants

by charis2770



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Light BDSM, Light Spanking, O/C death, Prequel to events of anime/manga, Rough Sex, Wall Sex, friends & lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PLEASE BE WARNED!!</p><p>This story is about a couple of original characters who were friends of Erwin, Nile and Mike's when all were kids and trainees together. They've known each other for years, and the two o/c's were in a relationship together. When one of them dies, Sigga, the female partner, is left a year later remembering her relationship, being honest with herself about its strengths and weaknesses, and looking to her future. Mike is one of her dearest friends, and a perceptive one at that. Figuring out why she's been frustrated for years, he helps her vocalize what she wants, and then gives it to her. Beautifully, sweetly, brutally, and to absolute perfection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Girl Wants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Watergirl1968](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watergirl1968/gifts).



> This story is a Gift to my dear friend Watergirl1968, to whom I promised a spanking from any of the Dominant men about whom I write. She chose Mike, and this is that story. The people in this story are true to the series of SnK fics I've written here, and to what's happening on my Tumblr, bdsmfordummies-with-erwin-smith. I'm not replacing or eliminating any of the ships from those stories. This takes place several years before the 104th trainee class comes along, possibly around the time Eren, Mikasa and Armin are children but before the attack on Wall Maria. 
> 
> THIS STORY IS ABOUT A CANON CHARACTER AND AN ORIGINAL CHARACTER! Please be aware of that if you read it. I know a lot of people don't like O/C's. I don't condemn that. I'm not usually a big fan of them myself, with one notable exception in my Finder series. This is a one-shot, although at Watergirl's request, Sigga is still alive as current events progress and just as pleased as punch for Mike and Armin and how happy it makes her good friend to have found his sweet little lover.
> 
> This is a one-shot. It isn't going to become part of my regular work. I hope you can read it and enjoy the message here, which is that people have the right to have their own desires, and that even if you've sublimated your own needs for years and years in order to try to make someone else happy, you still have the right to have feelings and needs, and it can be beautiful when someone sees those and can help you explore them in a safe and supportive manner. This isn't a love story for the ages. Mike still hasn't met his true love, and he and Sigga are just very good friends who happen to be attracted to one another. I went ahead and used the versions of Mike and Erwin I'm writing about in my SnK BDSM AU because I really enjoyed giving a little peek at their past, younger selves, and think this little prequel enhances the readers' knowledge of the men they've become today. Thus I hope you'll read it with that in mind, and accept it for the tribute to a friend that it's meant to be. Eren and Armin and Levi and all the others will be along presently, as is evidenced by the fact that I've already begun writing about all of them.
> 
> So this is for Watergirl1968, with my thanks for Cherry Kirsch, and my love.

“Hey there, Silence.”

The brief weight of his hand on the top of her head settles there, familiar, as is the momentary unconscious stiffening of her spine and neck. He doesn’t press down. She’s only bracing herself because he’s so damned big that half the time she feels like she’s going to keel over face-first off the edge of the tower. This is what she’s been telling herself for the past year, in lieu of admitting that she’d really like to rub her head into the palm of his hand like a cat when he does it. Then the moment is past and he’s sitting beside her, long legs dangling over the edge. 

Mike Zacharius, squad leader, second in command of the Survey Corps, best friend of Commander Erwin Smith, comrade in arms since she’d met him during his training when she was only 14 and the naïve little chatterbox girlfriend of his classmate. He’d given her the nickname way back then. Has it really been ten years? Upon being introduced to her, most people reacted in some way to the name. It wasn’t  that bad. Maybe a little archaic. Some only raised an eyebrow. Others laughed a little. A few laughed a lot. Ones she knew immediately she’d never call friends would burst out with exclamations like, “Where’d you get a name like THAT?” or, “Wow, you mom really must not have wanted kids.” Mike had held out his hand and taken hers. He’d been big even then, but gangly with it still, and his huge paw had swallowed her smaller hand. He’d shaken it solemnly.

“What does Sigga mean?” he’d asked. Curious, nothing more. 

“Oh. It’s, um, Old Norse? Like Vikings, you know? It means Powerful Silence. It’s kind of a family name. My mom’s grandmother was named that, and then her great-grandmother…not like every generation or anything, just there’s been a lot of women in our family named that, all the way back to when there were Vikings. There WERE Vikings, you know, even if nobody else knows who they were anymore. They were like these really fierce warriors who wore furs and helmets that had horns on and they sailed around on the water in big boats and fought a lot.”

He’d been smiling. She’d broken off, realizing she was babbling again and blushing furiously, mentally cursing the fair skin of her heritage that meant she was incapable of hiding embarrassment or consternation.

“Ok yeah, so my mother tells me all the time it’s pretty ironic,” she’d muttered.

“I like it,” he’d said, and she’d turned even redder.

They’d accepted her into their ranks easily enough, when they had time to spare from their training, which wasn’t often. Erwin, Nile and Mike didn’t have girlfriends yet, so they’d thought Elrich was just a little bit cooler than everybody else because he’d known he was going to marry Sigga for ages already.

“Since I was nine and she was seven,” he’d told them, while she stood there, blushing  again, but with pride at the way he told it like she was something special. “I fell out of the apple tree in her backyard. We’d just moved into the house next door, and I’d been watching those apples ripen and I decided I needed to have some. So like a dumbass, instead of asking, I snuck over and climbed the tree to steal some. Well, her father’s grindstone was set up under the tree. He was a stone mason, and it was cool in the shade, and he’d sit there to sharpen his tools. So when I fell, I fell right onto the spiked end of his pickaxe. Went right into my thigh. Then this little blonde girl runs over and slaps my hands away and tells me not to move. She whips off her stocking, ties it around my thigh above where this monster fuckin’ spike is buried in my leg. She snaps at me not to faint and to help her tie it tight enough.  So we do, and she pulls that thing out of my leg and takes out the needle and thread she’s been using to sew the head back onto a doll…she told me later she was performing a transplant…and sews it up while I sit there biting my lip and crying and trying to do what she said and not pass the fuck out. Saved my life. My guardian angel.”

The other boys had looked skeptical until Elrich unfastened his breeches and pulled them down enough for them to see the deep, ugly scar high up on his left thigh. High enough that it was obvious the wound would have pumped his life’s blood out in a few short moments without quick medical attention. They had looked upon her with great respect from then on, and treated her like she was their special treasure. She’d eaten it up with a spoon. She still does, for Erwin and Mike have never stopped. 

“I’m going to be a medic,” she’d informed them loftily. “And I’m going to piece your sorry asses together every time you get them taken apart, until you manage to kill all the titans and then I will just work in my garden and yell at you all to get your feet off the furniture when you visit.”

“Why do you think we’re going to put our feet on your furniture?” Erwin has protested, laughing. She’d stared pointedly at his booted feet, propped across the back of the one of the chairs they’d liberated from the trash bin. The little abandoned cottage on the Western edge of the hunting reserve inside wall Rose had become their secret fort by then. It had been empty for at least a couple of years when they found it, and the big dead tree next to it was the source of the gigantic hole in the roof. They’d hauled out the fallen branch that was bigger than Mike and Erwin put together and cleaned the debris out of the cabin. The boys couldn’t get (or sneak) away very often, so Sigga kept it tidy for them, and snuck odds and ends of furnishings and dishes and other supplies out to it when she was able. They never stole anything anyone was using, but a number of refuse piles were liberated of pieces they deemed repairable. 

On one of the days when they were all able to steal an evening together, she’d brought honeycakes which they’d fallen on like starving wolverines. Mike, towering over all of them, had held up his hand.

“How bout you toss me onea those before these scavengers eat em all, Silence?” he’d asked. She’d done so, then surrendered the rest of the basket in self-defense and skirted the tussle of bodies that was Erwin, Nile and Elrich fighting over the rest of the treats to go sit beside Mike on a legless sofa.

“How come you never made fun of my name?” she’d asked for the first time, even though she’d wondered about it more than once over the years since they’d met. He’d hunched up one shoulder in a shrug.

“Hell, I smell people when I meet them. Everybody pretty much thinks I’m a freak, but you never made fun of that.  It’d be pretty shoddy repayment if I ribbed you about your name after that, aye?”

In retrospect, although her devotion to Elrich had never wavered, she’s pretty sure she fell for Mike just a little bit that day.

It had been hard when they’d finished training and joined the Survey Corps, except Nile, who went to the Military Police. They started to grow apart from Nile after that. They never spoke ill of him, but she knew that Erwin and Mike and Elrich thought just a little less of him for taking the easy route when they’d all agreed they wanted to actively hunt titans and make a difference. She hadn’t gotten to see them much at all after that, missing all of them bitterly and Elrich like she’d miss one of her limbs if she were to lose one. He was her very best friend in the whole world. Her training had taken longer than theirs. She’d finished the basic course at sixteen, two years behind them but right on schedule, and had then been stationed with the Garrison while she continued the medical training she’d begun as a child through her Uncle, the doctor, who thought she had a gift for healing. The military agreed with him, and she worked diligently under the Army surgeons and combat medics in the Garrison for two more years, only seeing the three of them when they had leave, which wasn’t often, or managed to just visit for a few hours when off duty and billeting nearby enough to swing by for a few precious hours.

It was during these years that her relationship with Elrich had begun to mature from the few stolen kisses of childhood and the blushing hand-holding and sweet hugs they’d shared into an adult, intimate relationship. She’d felt like she’d been waiting forever, since the first time he’d leaned over and brushed his lips awkwardly against hers when she’d been 12 and he 14. 

It wasn’t until the year she was finishing her medic training and about to turn 18 and he was given a week’s leave to help tie up his family’s affairs after the death of his father following a long illness that they finally had an opportunity to explore one another fully. They’d stolen away one evening after he’d delivered his younger sister to an aunt who’d agreed to take her in. Elrich had been exhausted and sad, and Sigga had wanted nothing more than to take the look of sorrow of his dear, kind face. She’d held him to her while he’d cried, the one and only time he’d allowed himself to vocalize his grief for his father, and then she’d slowly undressed him and he’d touched her tenderly and reverently in the moonlight and asked if it was all right.

“Yes,” she’d whispered. “Yes, Elrich. Be with me.”

He’d entered her clumsily, and she’d gasped at the pain as her innocence was breached but her body had thrilled at the sharp, illicit thrill of it and hadn’t minded at all. This was it; they were finally together as they’d always been meant to be. She’d trembled, expectant, her slim body yearning towards something she didn’t really understand but had been waiting for, it seemed forever. Except it didn’t come. He plunged and writhed on top of her, a little sweaty, still crying, and she had wanted to see stars, to feel the earth move, but then he’d stiffened and gasped and it was over, and she was left a little sticky and a little sore and a lot confused. She’d assumed she’d done something wrong, so when he’d sleepily asked if it was good for her, she’d assured him that it had been wonderful, and felt like a terrible person for lying to him. At home in her bed that night, she’d let her fingers drift between her legs to touch the flesh he’d cloven in two with his young man’s prick, to see if perhaps there was something wrong down there, if maybe she just couldn’t feel things. But her questing fingers had brushed a small bump nestled in the plump flesh of her sex and she’d gasped as a thrill of pleasure had shot through her like wildfire. As she’d stroked the tip of her finger back and forth, her other hand had stolen up to the softness of her breast and touched the nipple, feeling it pebble against her touch. Not understanding why, she’d pinched the nipple slowly, bearing down bit by bit until her lips had parted on a low moan of hunger at the ache of it, and her hips had lifted, arching upwards as though seeking something, and she’d come for the first time in her life, panting and trembling, shocked and delighted with herself, rubbing gently at her sore nipple. It had just been awkward, with Elrich. Probably everybody was awkward the first time, she’d thought. And her love for him remained unshaken, and he remained her best friend, for years and years, when she joined the Survey Corps to fulfill her promise to them to keep putting them back together, and when they decided not to marry because their lives were so precarious but held a secret little hand fasting ceremony just for their close friends late one night under a full moon and a sky full of stars. Best friend, first love, dependable lover, staunchest supporter. He remained all of those things until the day Elrich died on patrol, when Sigga had been with the Survey Corps for 5 years. But the awkward feeling never went away.

The warmth of Mike’s body and the way her own wants to lean towards his when he rests his palm on her head and flops down beside her make her feel like a bad person. He bumps her with his shoulder and she realizes she hasn’t spoken yet.

“You decide to randomly start living up to your name after all this time?” he asks genially. She huffs out a soft laugh. “Or if you’d rather be alone, I’ll go,” he offers, gathering one leg under him to rise. She moves then, turning towards him and putting her hand on his arm.

“Stay. I want you to. I was just…thinking.”

“It’s been a year,” he says, and she loves him for it, that he’s remembered, and come looking for her. They’d taken to congregating here, in the nearest of the new observation towers Erwin had commissioned during his first year as Commander, along a big, meandering, broad valley a few miles from base. It’s much closer than the little cottage that used to be their clubhouse, and they can almost always count on being alone to talk over plans and strategies, or just to talk. Erwin’s newest squad leader, Hanji Zoe, has joined the ranks of their friendship in the past year. Taking Elrich’s place. But never replacing him. It’s impossible not to like Hanji though, and Sigga does, unreservedly. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, drawing up her knees and resting her chin on them, staring up at the night sky. Erwin says he’s going to have railing built onto the observation towers, but Sigga hopes he doesn’t hurry. She likes sitting here on the edge, feet dangling above a hundred foot drop to the valley floor below. She’s competent enough with her maneuver gear, but she doesn’t use it as often as the others and she likes being up high. 

“What’s on your mind tonight then?” he asks, still leaning into her a little and it takes all her concentration not to lean back. “Memories? Grieving?”

“No…no, I’m not…I mean, there’s always going to be some grief, right? He was my best friend. There’ll always be a hole where he fit. You don’t…I don’t think you fill those up. I think you…you find other things. Things that make you happy, bring you joy, things that mean you can move on, not stand by that hole and stare into it forever, you know?”

“I do. And I think that’s a damned fine way of looking at it. Then why do you look sad? Was there something wrong between you and Elrich?”

She glances at him and then quickly down at her feet. Mike’s always been too perceptive by half.

“Not wrong,” she says quickly. “Elrich was…well, he was my best friend. He treated me like a princess. Kind, gentle, loving…just what every woman wants.”

“Well,” says Mike, with a smile ghosting over his face that has something pulling tight in her belly because there is nothing of kindness or gentleness in it, “not  every woman.”

She’s suddenly seized by a memory. A couple of years ago she’d been on her way to the stable to fetch her horse, as a young boy from a nearby farm had showed up on the Commander’s doorstep pleading for a doctor. His papa had taken a nasty fall from the barn loft and his leg was badly hurt. Sigga was a military medic, but she never said no when someone needed help and she was available to give it, and Erwin had never asked her to. She’d rounded a corner and come upon Mike and his most recent paramour. In all the years she’d known him, Mike had never been terribly serious about anyone. He’d had relationships, some merely brief assignations and others that lasted a few months or even a year. They don’t see Nile much anymore, so she’s not sure about him, but she’s known that Erwin’s gay and Mike’s…well, Mike doesn’t seem to take a person’s sex into consideration when deciding whether they’re attractive to him or not. She’s known him to take men and women as lovers, and there was that one time he had both at the same time. On the particular occasion she’s recalling now, it had been a girl. Three years or so younger than Mike, Heidi had been an adorable, petite little blonde with enormous blue eyes. Mike had been kissing her against the stable’s wall and when he’d seen Sigga coming, he’d pulled back from the kiss with a smile and sent Heidi on her way with a gentle push and a slap on her backside. Sigga hadn’t thought about it much at the time, aside from determinedly quashing a rather distracting tug in her nether regions at the sight of it. It had just been one of those things guys tend to do sometimes. A slap on the back, the arm, the ass. An “Atta boy (or girl)” sort of gesture that didn’t mean anything. At the expression on his face right now though, she wonders. Oh God.

“I bit him once,” she confesses, burying her face in her hands because she can’t look at him and say this, and for some reason she wants Mike to understand, hopes someone will tell her she’s not being ungrateful or disrespectful to Elrich’s memory, admitting that their sex life hadn’t been exactly fulfilling for her. And that maybe she’s at a place in her life where she’s ready to start looking for something that is. “While we were…in bed. He looked so shocked and wounded. I said I was sorry, that it had been very bad of me and perhaps he should….should…p-punish me. He…he said not to be absurd and of course he forgave me. I was his angel. His savior.” 

Mike doesn’t reply, and for a long time, Sigga’s too mortified to be willing to risk looking at him to see the censure she expects to see on his face. At last she can’t stand the silence so she peeks over at him through her fingers and the expression on his face makes her drop her hands and stare. She can’t help it. She couldn’t look away if she tried. His silver-blue eyes are glittering with some inner heat she doesn’t understand, but wants to. His lips are parted. The tip of his tongue touches his bottom lip and she stares at that too.

“Do you want to know what I’d have done if I were in his place?” he asks. His deep voice has gone rough and raw, grating over her skin like claws and leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

“Yes?” she asks breathlessly.

“I’d have put you over my knee and spanked you. Slow and hard and so good. Until you squirmed and kicked and whimpered and you were so wet against my leg I could feel it. Then I’d have picked you up and kissed away a few sweet tears from your face and then….ah, Silence…I’d have fucked you so hard you’d have forgotten everything but my name.”

Dazedly, she wonders if it’s possible for a woman to actually come in her pants just from the sound of a man’s voice and the things he says. She claps her hands back over her face again.

“Oh my God. I can’t…I don’t even know what to say to that. You can’t say that. What’s wrong with you?” she wails.

“Mm. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I thought…well. I’ll tell you what. If it ever doesn’t freak you out too much, you just let me know, cause I’d really like to kiss you, baby. One of these days.”

“What? You…shit. Can you…do I get some advance warning so I can like, brace myself or something?” she asks wildly, because he’s completely misunderstood but she doesn’t want to fall off the tower or just melt into a puddle when she manages to explain how wrong he’s taken her reaction.

“No,” he says softly. “Because I won’t let you fall.”

“Fuck. Fuck, Mike. You don’t know…you can’t…I’m not freaked out, you asshole. I’ve just…I’ve wanted you for ages and you go and say things like that and I’m just…I’ve never…I’ve only dreamed…or thought when I was alone, about things like…like being held down. Or…or having my hair pulled…or being…being…punishmphmgh…”

She doesn’t get to finish. He doesn’t let her. Before she even sees him move, she’s shoved into the side wall of the tower and his big hand is in her hair, gripping tight and holding her head still where he wants it, and his other hand is on her hip, his thumb sliding under her shirt to skim the soft skin at her waist and his mouth is on hers. Mike doesn’t kiss politely. He kisses like she’s lunch and he skipped breakfast. He devours her, his tongue teasing at her lips and then stroking hungrily into her mouth, lapping at her own tongue and tangling and licking at her like she’s candy, a low growl rumbling in his throat. She whimpers softly and he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth and his teeth capture it gently, then bear down just a little, nipping her hard enough to pinch a bit. Oh God. Something inside her, some tiny starving thing she has kept locked away and tried to ignore its plaintive little questioning voice asking…is this all there is? That something bursts from its bonds and turns out not to be tiny or plaintive at all but enormous and greedy. Yes, she thinks dizzily, this is what I meant. Oh this…

“Mike,” she whispers into his mouth. He growls again and doesn’t stop kissing her. Instead he hauls her into his lap and doesn’t apologize once when he pulls her hair in the process or bites her a little too hard. Thank God. Then her legs are wrapped around his waist and the hand that isn’t fisted in her messy blonde hair is under her shirt, skimming up her back, his callused skin scratchy and hot against hers, setting her on fire for him to keep touching her. The hand in her hair clenches harder, pulling her hair enough to make her eyes water a little, and she moans softly. All the times she’d imagined something like this, she’d been wrong. It isn’t sexy and a little dirty. It’s filthy, and she’s going to combust, come in his goddamn fucking  lap where the seam of her sex is riding the thick ridge of his erection through his pants. He’s hard for her. For  her. It’s heady. He yanks her head back, baring the long line of her throat. She moans again, pulling against his hold a little, just to see how it feels. Amazing. He yanks harder, a little snarl of warning on his lips, which are now pressed against her throat.

“Fuck,” he breathes against her hot skin, “ Sigga…”

“Don’t stop,” she whispers. “Please. Please let there be more. There’s more, right? There has to be more. You can’t stop, I’ll die. Mike…Mike…I…Ohhhhh…”

His teeth graze her skin, the tip of his tongue flicking out to taste her, and then he finds the tendon in the side of her neck and his teeth close around it and he  bites. She nearly screams when he does it, and her thighs clench around his waist even tighter, and her arms grip his broad shoulders and her nails dig in. He hums and she feels the vibration of a subterranean chuckle vibrate against her throat. Then he’s kissing her mouth again, and this time she bites  him.  He pulls back and looks into her eyes sternly and she squirms against him.

“Why you naughty little girl,” he purrs. Her eyes roll back into her head a little, and her pussy clenches. She pants and nods and grinds against him harder. His hands grip her hips hard. Hard enough that she thinks she’s going to have finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow. God, she hopes so. She whimpers and goes still, trying to be obedient.

“I’m sorry Mike,” she says contritely. The sincerity of this statement might be ever so slightly undermined by her enormous, delighted smile and the giggle she cannot quite suppress. He grins back, teeth bared.

“I want to show you what happens to naughty girls,” he whispers. His voice softens, and he lets go of her hip with one hand to stroke the tips of his fingers against her cheek and over her tousled hair. His thumb brushes her lips and he gives her a quick, darting kiss. “Will you let me, baby girl? I want to make it good for you.”

“Will it hurt?” she asks, nibbling nervously at her lower lip. Now that she’s faced with it, she wonders if the reality of it will be more than she can handle, if she’ll embarrass herself, and him.

“As much as you want it to,” he promises. “I’ll give you as much as you want, and no more. I’m going to use my hand, and I’ll go slow. I’ll start you out easy, warm up your cute little ass a little at a time; see how it works for you. If you don’t like it, all you have to do is say “red.” Like the flags the Garrison uses when there’s a lot of traffic, to tell someone to stop. That’s all you have to remember.”

“Do I get to keep my pants on?” she asks, holding her breath, wondering what he’ll say and wondering what she wants him to say.

“Have your pants been bad and gone biting people without permission?” he asks severely. She snickers, cheeks flushing, at the realization that he’s going to pull them down, will see her naked backside. Touch it.

“Mike?” she asks softly, uncertainly, back to lip-biting again.

“Hm?”

“Will you…will you…make love to me? After?” She closes her eyes and hides her face against his shoulder, shocked at herself, trembling as she awaits his answer. It’s like having a bucket of cold water thrown over her when he answers.

“No,” he says solemnly. She stiffens, starts to pull away from him, and then it’s like being thrust bodily into fire when he continues, turning his head so that he murmurs into her ear. “I’m going to fuck you after.”

One hand cups her breast through her shirt, his thumb dragging across her nipple, and as she’s groaning wantonly into his mouth while he distracts her with another of those hungry, brutal kisses, he thumbs open the catch on her trousers.

“Smooth fucker,” she pants. He chuckles, and upends her unapologetically over his lap as he scoots back a little so she doesn’t end up with her legs dangling over a hundred-foot drop. It knocks the breath out of her, and she’s still trying to suck it back into her lungs when she feels his thumbs hook in her waistband. She bucks a little against him, but he just laughs at her and hauls her pants down to the middle of her thighs. She goes very still and hides her face in her arms when she feels the cool night air on her ass. How humiliating, to be suddenly so exposed to him. She feels a gentle touch on her bottom and she flinches, tensing, her ears flaming, holding her breath and hoping he doesn’t say something awful about how fat her ass is or point out that she’s got a pimple on it or something. Oh God, what if she does? This is awful. He’s sitting there fully clothed and just LOOKING at her like this. No. No, no, no. 

“Goddamn,” he whispers fervently, his words intercepting her attempt to hurl herself off of him and flee before it can begin. “God damn, Silence. You have got the most beautiful, round little ass I’ve ever seen.”

“No I don’t,” she mumbles into her arms. His fingers on her backside tense a little.

“Do you think it’s really all that smart to be arguin’ with the man who’s about to be warming your backside for you, precious?” he growls in a silky voice. She eeps softly in alarm and subsides, quivering all over in terror. Why in the name of all that is holy did she ever agree to this?

“Mike,” she whispers, more of a plea than it is anything else.

“Sigga,” he whispers back, his hand stroking slow, gentle circles on her upthrust bottom. “Baby girl, I’ve got you. You with me, sweetness? What do you say if you need me to stop?”

“R-red,” she whimpers.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and the words go straight through her, resonating through her brain, her heart, her core as though she’s a string he’s been tuning til now and that one little phrase plucks the perfect note from her. Yes, oh yes, she’ll be his good girl. Warmth spreads from her belly to her thighs, and she relaxes against him, pliant, compliant, yielding. “ Such a good girl,” he repeats approvingly when he feels her stop struggling with herself, with what’s happening. She sighs softly. He lifts his hand, and she tenses a little, but not because she’s afraid, really. Just because she has no idea what to expect and she’s never liked not knowing what to expect. And yet where had knowing what to expect gotten her? 

The impact when it comes is nothing compared to what she’d been expecting. He slaps her lightly across the center of her ass. It doesn’t even sting. It sounds shockingly loud, and she flinches at the sound, but not the sensation. He laughs softly.

“Relax again, Sigga. This isn’t going to start to sting for a while yet. You’re acting like you expect me to brutalize you. Have we met, or not?”

Well. When he puts it that way, she feels a little silly. She laughs sheepishly, and wriggles a little until she’s arranged more comfortably. This is Mike, and she’s being a little silly. This is the man to whom people bring every orphaned and wounded animal anybody finds for several miles in all directions, because Mike is the one who can still their panicked thrashing, can calm and gentle their trembling, and make them be calm and quiet while he and Sigga treat their wounds. This is the man she has seen at nearby farms and in smaller towns being climbed and kicked and wrestled with by innumerable small children. He is as kind and gentle a person as Elrich had ever thought of being, and he is her friend. That there are other layers to him only makes him more beautiful to her, and that he could cut so quickly and accurately to the core of her most secret desires, have her out of her pants and over his knees so fast it makes her dizzy makes her helpless with desire. But underneath all of that, he is also still Mike. And he’ll never harm her.

“I’m a dumbass,” she says ruefully.

“Do you want me to make this a real spanking, young lady?” he says sternly, and she files the part of her that wants to say yes to that question away for later consideration. You know, if she likes how this goes, of course.

“No,” she whispers.

“Then don’t say things like that about the woman I’ve been wanting to have in this position for something like ten years,” he says, shocking her.

“I…you…what?”

“Oh yes. I’ve known what lights my candle for a lot of years, Silence. I already knew it that day just a few months after I met you, after your 15 th birthday, when you stole my field notes and hid them and wouldn’t tell me where?”

“You remember that?”

He slaps her bottom again, softly, laughing. She arches her back a little when he does it. He does it again, and then again, careful, gentle smacks that do nothing but slowly build a soft warmth in her skin. It’s delicious, but she’s greedy, and she wants more.

“Of course I remember. Oh, I wanted to throw you over my knee and lift up that pretty blue skirt you were wearing…it showed your ankles and little of your calves when you spun around. You’ve always had the nicest legs…and pick up the spatula on the countertop behind your kitchen table and paddle your backside until you stopped being a brat and told me where you’d hidden it.”

That’s when he spanks her just a tiny bit harder. There’s a faint tingle to the sensation of his broad palm connecting with her flesh now. She raises her hips into it and moans again, a throaty, wanton sound that makes him roll his own hips into hers a little, letting her feel the heavy thickness of his arousal through his breeches. Her eyes widen when it dawns on her just how thick and how long that hardness is. And he says he’s going to… She whines softly, squeezing her legs together, wondering dazedly if she’s started dripping on his thigh yet. She’s so wet it feels like someone squeezed a grape between her legs.

“M-Mike,” she gasps.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Please…please…harder.”

“Mm. It would be my pleasure, “ he says in his deep, rumbling baritone voice that she has always found so very compelling. The next spank is a little harder, and she feels the sting of it, a tiny hot flare on her left cheek and then again, quickly, on the right, that fades quickly into warmth. It still doesn’t really hurt, but the heat is starting to build in her skin, and elsewhere. She closes her eyes and tries to stop thinking about it so hard. 

She sinks, but doesn’t drown. Her body drifts into the sensations he’s giving her, the little flares of heat that are each crisp slap of his hand on her bottom bright behind her eyelids. She lets go of her sense of self, her concerns and self-consciousness and her guilt, her worry that she is disloyal, and gives herself permission to feel something about which she has to admit she’s fantasized for years. She becomes the naughty little girl who’s earned her spanking. It doesn’t matter that it’s entirely contrived, this is a fantasy for them both and she’s letting herself have it. It is so deliciously dirty and wanton and naughty.

“Ohh,” she moans, squirming as he steps up the intensity a little more, “Oh Mike, I’m SO sorry!”

“Are you then?” he asks with interest. “Why is that?”

“Mnn. I bit you. I meant to. I didn’t care if it cut your lip. I meant it to.”

“Dirty little girl,” he growls, delighted, and gives her half a dozen quick, sharp slaps. She arches into them and whimpers softly.

“Ngh. Oh God. Don’t stop.”

“You’ve been that naughty then, have you?” he asks, humor warming his voice.

“Hnh. Y-yes. Oh. Oh. One night…ah…when you…ohh…you were in tr…ah…training?”

He pauses the spanking and lets out a startled laugh.

“You gonna confess every dirty thing you’ve done since you were fifteen?”

“No! Sh-shut up! Oww!” she yelps a little when he gives her a good hard spank upon being told to shut up. He growls at her and resumes layering heat upon heat over her bare skin.

“All right then. I can’t wait to hear this.”

“I snuck into camp one night,” she whispers, eyes closed, picturing the night that had changed her forever. She’s never told a living soul about it. Elrich would have been horrified, and possibly mad at his two best friends, not to mention disappointed in her. That’s as far as he ever took it. Being disappointed. She remembers, and she tells Mike about what she’d done, what she’d seen and overheard, breathlessly and in fits and starts because he keeps right on spanking her the whole time.

Panting with thrilling terror, she had snuck past the night watch. They were two of the kids from her friends’ class and they weren’t very observant. She was still small for her age, and quiet, and it wasn’t like the training camp was terribly secure anyway.  There were no enemies INSIDE the walls, and the camp was well away from any of the walls themselves, and there hadn’t been a big titan attack in a long time. She’d baked cookies that day, and she’d wanted to share them with her friends, her heroes, and maybe see Elrich for a minute. Maybe he’d kiss her. When she’d crept to the window of the barracks where they slept, she only saw Nile and Elrich asleep in their bunks. Wanting to give her gift to all of them at once, she’d paused, chewing on her lip and wondering where Mike and Erwin were. Then she’d remembered the two of them saying that sometimes when they couldn’t sleep, they’d sneak out to the stable and hang out with the horses. Brightening, she’d slunk back into the shadows and made her way to the stable. Mike and Erwin were indeed there, and to this day she doesn’t know why she hadn’t gone in and announced herself right away, but she hadn’t. She’d snuck up and listened, and what she’d heard had been too shocking, too titillating to interrupt.

“…you fucked him yet?” It was Mike’s voice, already a deep baritone.

“Yeah,” replied Erwin, proud and a little gleeful. “Last Sunday. Gave it to him good, too.”

“What’s it like?”

“You gonna do it with Kristoff?”

“Dunno yet. I mean…I’ve never, with a guy. And I’m…well shit man, I aint small, and a guy’s asshole aint really anything like a girl’s pussy, is it?”

“No,” Erwin had agreed. “It’s lots tighter. Man, you’ve got no idea how tight. You’ve just gotta…go slow.”

“You do what we talked about first…hey, is that too tight?”

“No, it’s good. A little tighter I think? Yeah.”

At these compelling words, she’d tiptoed around to the end of the building and peeked in through a window. They always kept them open when it was warm, so the horses wouldn’t get too hot at night. Mike and Erwin were sitting on a stack of hay bales, on horse blankets they’d spread over them to keep from being scratched by the sharp ends of the straws. Erwin was straddling his bale, face down on his belly. His arms were bound tightly behind his back, at bicep, elbow, forearm and wrist. He was straining against his bonds with all his might, muscles bulging, unable to get free, while Mike pulled on one of the straps, tightening it down. The scene didn’t have anything sexual about it. It appeared to be an experiment of some sort, but the subject matter certainly was, and the sight of the handsome blond boy bound helplessly was almost unbearably delicious.

“So, did you?” Mike had prompted.

“Ugh...ease up, that’s too much. And yeah. Yeah, I did. He bit me again while he went down on me. I know he does it on purpose now. Got him to confess. I wrestled him face down over my saddle…we’d unsaddled the horses while we had lunch, to keep them from chafing since it was an all-day exercise…and we’d already got the top halves of our harnesses off because of…you know, him going down on me and stuff…so I yanked his pants down and whipped him with this switch I cut off a bush.”

“Oh man, that’s fuckin’ great. Did he yell?”

“Shit Mike. I made him cry.”

“Oh my God, really?”

“Yeah! I mean, I was gonna stop. I mean, we talked about how we didn’t think it ought to be the sort of thing you MAKE somebody take if they aren’t into it and stuff.  I told him what to say to make me stop. I even asked him a couple times did he want me to. He didn’t. When I…when his ass was all like, bright red and welted and shit and he was just…just crying, I stopped, and  man…he fucking tackled me. Knocked me down and said how sorry he was and he’d never bite me there again and I mean he was begging me to fuck him before I got my fingers up his ass. It was the hottest Goddamn thing ever.”

“Ohh man, I wish I coulda seen that. You know, that Brigit girl I was seeing before Kristoff, she was really into it too. I never had a better fuck than when I’d paddle her ass and then she’d jump on me and ride me til we were both fuckin’ cross-eyed. You got any idea how happy I am we found that old basement with all those old pictures and that book and stuff, talking about this shit?”

“About as happy as me, I guess. Here, undo me. I want to try the hogtie thing on you with these and see if I can figure out how you’d go about fucking someone if they were tied up that way.”

“Okay,” Mike had agreed genially, and begun to unbuckle the straps on Erwin’s arms. “But keep your disgusting dick away from my ass.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” Erwin had said snidely, “YOUR ass is safe from me. It’d be like fucking my brother and ew,  no .”

She’d tripped over a loose rock just then, trying to get up higher on her toes to see better, and they’d frozen in terror and, after a few minutes, fled the stable in silence. Disappointed, she’d stolen into the stable and found the leather straps they’d left behind, stuffed between two hay bales. Clutching one of them between her budding adolescent breasts, she’d fled the camp as the boys had fled the stable, the cookies forgotten in their basket over her arm.

Mike stops spanking her when she finishes gasping out her confession.

“You never did!” he exclaims, scandalized.

“Yes,” she whispers, face burning as hot as her backside.

“What did you do with it?”

“Y…you’re wearing it,” she says, trying and failing completely to hold back a giggle. A few years after the incident, she’d noticed that the belt he wore when he wasn’t on duty and in his maneuver gear was starting to look a little cracked and stressed. She’d bought a shiny new nickel buckle and borrowed some tools from her father and she’d finished the edges of the strap, then riveted on the new buckle and presented it to him for his birthday. He still wore it every time he was out of uniform, as he was tonight.

“Minx!” He laughs out loud, thrilled with her story.

“After what I heard,” she says shyly, glad he can’t see her face, “I…I used to imagine you…u-using it on people.”

“So I have,” he says thoughtfully. “And I think it’s high time its creator finally had a taste of it.”

“Mike no,” she cries, a frisson of fear warring with lust in her fevered brain. “That’s…it will hurt…”

“Silence,” he purrs, gentle fingers tracing red marks left on her ass by his hand, and the crevice between her cheeks and down between her legs where he almost touches her where she yearns for him, almost. “I have been spanking you almost as hard as I can for the last five minutes or so and my hand hurts like bloody hell.”

“Y…you have?”

“Believe me, my sweet little naughty girl, you are well warmed up. You’re ready. And you want it. You’ve been wanting it for all these years, every time you’ve seen me wear it. Haven’t you?”

She whimpers softly, because he’s right. Oh, how often has she thought of it? Imagined herself in the place of the boy bent over the saddle. Mike’s saddle instead of Erwin’s, Mike himself taking Erwin’s place. Dozens? Hundreds? At least. 

“HAVEN’T. YOU?” 

She cries out as Mike grows impatient waiting for her answer and spanks her hard to get her attention.

“Yes! Oh God. I have. Mike, please…”

He picks her up and sits her in his lap. Capturing her mouth, he kisses her deeply and sweetly, the tip of his tongue licking softly into her mouth, one hand sliding up under her shirt and the tight undershirt she wears to cup her breast, the other hand stealing between her thighs, pressing them farther apart, to trace the weeping slit of her sex. It dips inside, instantly slicked by the proof of her desire for him, and skims soft as a sigh over her clit. She groans feelingly into his mouth and rocks against him. She’s shuddering and panting when he finally stops, getting to his feet at the same time as he helps her stagger upright as well. He turns her a bit and helps her bend at the waist, fingers clutching the unglazed window in the side of the tower a few feet back from its open front. He rests one big hand on top of hers for a moment, squeezing her fingers softly.

“Hang on. Right here, okay sweetness?”

“Yes Mike,” she whispers. He tugs her pants the rest of the way down, and off. He uses his foot to nudge at her calves until she opens her legs. The night air feels cool when it touches her aching pussy, wet as water weed and hot as a humid August afternoon. 

“Keep your legs spread for me like a good girl,” he says sternly. She nods, wordless, and arches her back. She moans again when she hears the clink and shuffle of him unbuckling his belt. Her lips part and she whimpers hungrily at the sound of the soft hiss of leather sliding through belt loops, then the muffled tink of the buckle as he grips it tight in his fist, the whisper of the leather as he wraps it around his hand. His other hand rests on the small of her back, steadying her. Indeed, the contact grounds her, keeps her fears that this will be too much for her at bay. She trusts him, so she lets go of her fear and waits.

The crack of leather on flesh is louder than it is painful, but oh, it stings. She knows he’s being careful with her, can well imagine that if he wanted to he could flay her ass open with that strap, but he doesn’t. Carefully, almost caressingly, the strap of the belt she made him licks at her bottom and the tops of her thighs where he has already spanked her and her skin is red and hot and tingling all over. She cries out with each stroke, lewd, gasping, desperate little sounds. He straps her ass until her breath sobs in her lungs and she’s whimpering and whining through her nose with every stroke, and there are tears in her eyes, she can feel the pricking of them stinging, threatening to spill over. They are not tears of pain. He has played her body too skillfully. They are from need. Desperate desire. He’s given her what she’s craved since she was 15 years old, what she yearned for in solitude in the dark. In some small part they are of grief for a man she had honestly loved and who she knows beyond any doubt had loved her in return, but who had never truly known her, or seen her. She says goodbye to him now, feels ready to let him go and to reach for what she needs without regret. He’d want her to be happy, this she knows. Even if wherever he is, he’s shaking his head in bewildered incomprehension, he’d want her to have what she wants, what she needs.   This  man, this big, powerful, gentle, ferocious, clear-seeing,  brutal man has in one night stripped her down to her very essence. Oh, she wants him with an intensity she’s never wanted anything in her life, except perhaps to keep them safe, her friends. She doesn’t think he’s her destiny, beyond being destined to be her friend as long as they live, but this gift he’s giving her will stay with her forever, and she knows that after this night, she will never again feel obligated to go to sleep wondering why she feels so incomplete, and what the hell is wrong with her.

“Mike,” she sobs, feeling the tears at last, cool on her heated cheeks, “Mike please. Please, I need…I…”

She feels his hands on her, hears a clatter and thud as the belt drops unheeded to the floor. She feels nearly fragile in his powerful grip, but in no danger of shattering. He pets her gently, soothing her, making sure she’s all right. She is. Oh, she is, but she’s going to go mad in a minute. She aches deep inside with an emptiness she needs to have filled. She thinks she may hurl herself on him and savage him with nails and teeth if he treats her like she’s breakable right now. 

Really, she should probably stop worrying about things that are out of her hands. He, as he’s already told her, has her. And she HAS met him. There’s a momentary pause and then one hand grips her left hip firmly, fingers digging into her flesh. A broad, blunt hardness bumps against her once and then she shrieks into the night as he rams his rather impressive cock deep inside her body with one ruthless shove. It rearranges flesh that hasn’t yielded intimately to a man in over a year and oh God, it aches. It’s like being bludgeoned inside. She sobs again, because it’s nearly too much. He’ll tear her asunder!

“No,” she cries, “wait! Oh God, I can’t! You’re too…”

“You can,” he snarls, dragging his cock back out of her and plunging deep once more. His hips slap against her hot, stinging ass. She wails and digs her fingers into the wood she clings to as though she will  sink them into it. It seems forever and only moments until the pain of his invasion fades to an ache that feeds her soul and her body burns with need and pleasure each time he rams himself into her. 

“God. Oh God. Shit. Mike!”

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers gentling, hands brushing her skin as if she is something fine and fragile and perfect while he continues to plow his cock so deep she thinks she may be able to taste him tomorrow. His hands reach up to cover hers and he lifts her so that her back is pressed against him. Strong fingers tangle in her hair and she turns into the caress, their lips meeting in a kiss so sweet it brings more tears to her eyes. He pulls away to lick them from her face and then kisses her again, his lips salty. His other hand glides down her belly and softly covers her pussy, clever fingers spreading her, then rubbing and stroking her clit with a slow and easy pressure while he grinds his hips against her ass.

“Please, please, I need….”

“Shh, sweetness, I got you,” he murmurs. There’s a brief moment of terrible emptiness when he withdraws from her body and then another of dizzying confusion as he spins her to face him and lifts her as though she weighs no more than a thought. Her back is against the wall, her arms around his neck and his cock back inside her where she needs it more than she needs to breathe right now, more than anything. He hammers himself into her ruthlessly, dragging screams from her throat until her voice is no more than a raw, needy whimper, while he kisses her tenderly and whispers lovely, filthy things into her ear and reaches between their bodies to press against her clit with his thumb. His tenderness, combined with the primal brutality of the way he fucks, like it’s essential, have her spinning helplessly towards a climax that already terrifies her with its intensity.

“Fuck. Sigga. Ngh. Baby girl, you’re so good for me. You’re perfect. God, your pussy feels so good. Sweet girl, so pretty with your tears on your face. All for me. Hngh. Jesusfuck, Sigga, wanted you for so damn long. All these years. Hah. All those times you were a little smartass. Oh God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to bend you over. Spank you, make you squeal. Make you  cry , sweetheart. Just for. Me. Oh. God. Damn.” He presses his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes, an expression of soft wonder on his face. His fingers shake a little as he touches her cheeks, her lips.

“Mike…” she breathes, her chest hitching, body shuddering, her arms grasping his neck tight and holding on as though she’ll be lost if she lets go. God, how could she have lived this long and never known it could be this way? It feels as though she’s been sleep walking through life until tonight, and only now is she finally wide awake. 

“Will you come for me, sweet girl?” he coaxes softly, the ball of his thumb pressing and gliding over that once perfect spot. He angles his hips and fucks into her with unrelenting, bruising, brutal force while his hands and his kisses and his words cherish her in ways she’s never dreamed. “I want you to. Want to feel that sweet pussy quiver for me. Just for me. Come on, baby. Give it to me. Come for me, Sigga…there. Oh there….” He bites his lip and moans softly and she couldn’t resist him now if she wanted to, and she doesn’t. She wants to give him everything he asks for. And all he asks is to please her.

“Mike…oh…oh now,” she sobs. Liquid heat that feels like light purls and pools in her belly and at the base of her spine, curling and drawing tight…tighter….her whole body trembling as she reaches for something she’s always known was there, just beyond her reach. And Mike, with his powerful body and his strong arms and his enormous heart has lifted her up high enough that now, oh now, finally she can touch it, grab it, draw it into herself and let it fill her up until she bursts. She buries her face against his neck and bites him, shrieking through her teeth as she explodes into a million tiny shards of brilliant light. The walls of her cunt convulse around his thick, punishing cock, drenching him with her pleasure, sucking him in deep and clenching, not wanting to let him go. He throws his head back and shouts, slamming his cock home one last time and shuddering, fused to her, laughing in triumph as he pulses inside her, both of them complete, replete with the pleasure they give and take from one another’s bodies. 

She doesn’t know how much time passes before they both lift their heads a little groggily and look at each other, blinking a little stupidly and grinning into each other’s faces like morons. Gently, he withdraws from her and sets her on her feet.

“Oh God. Oh shit, fuck, you bastard,” she groans as her insides cramp and ache like a bruise. It feels like she’s been bludgeoned inside. She has been, in fact, when she thinks about it.

“Sore?” he asks, his voice rumbly and a little cracked around the edges.

“Jesus,” she whimpers feelingly. “Yes. Ow.”

“Good.”

“Asshole,” she says happily, deciding her legs can probably support her. He grins crookedly at her and it makes her pussy clench, drawing a whine from deep inside.

“Watch yourself there, sweetness. I’m not too tired or too sore to bed you back over and blister your bottom for you again.”

“Oh God. You’re a horrible man,” she moans, leaning against him for support and feeling absurdly cherished when he draws her close and supports her a lot more gently and carefully then she really needs him to, but she snuggles into it anyway, giggling a little at how ridiculous she’s being. Like she’s never done this before, like it’s a shiny new toy she can’t get enough of. 

“Don’t you forget it, because I’ll do it, darlin’. Any time you need. Maybe sometime when you think you don’t, if you want to take it a step or two further sometime.”

She pauses in pulling her pants back up and thinks about this. Imagines him ruthless and brutal and punishing. Holding her down and wrenching shrieks from her throat as that powerfully muscled arm lifts the strap and brings it down with ear-shattering cracks across her naked, helpless  flesh. She shivers, and stares at him in fascination, like the mouse in front of the cobra preparing to eat it. He chuckles a little and then lets out a deep, exuberant belly laugh, hugging her tight and leaning down to kiss her breathless.

“You’re beautiful. I wish you could see the look on your face right now. I’m going to do it, Silence. Sometime when you’ve been a bad girl and there’s hurt and anger and sorrow inside you, I’ll show you how I can break you down and make it better, after I’ve made you scream and scream. And after that, after I’ve wrecked you, then, sweet girl, that’s when I’ll make love to you.”

“You mean you’d…we might do this again…sometimes?”

“You lookin’ for something serious?” he asks, looking a little wary.

“With you? Oh God, Mike. I love you more than just about anyone, but no. We’ve known each other too long; we’re too good as friends. I know one of these days…and I believe it now…I didn’t earlier tonight, so thank you for that…I know we’ll both find someone that’s home for us, that completes us inside. And I know you’re not that person for me any more than I’m that person for you. But this…this was amazing and there’s so much I’ve never tried, never known, and I want…well, when I find that person, I’d like to know who I am, be really comfortable in my own skin and with my needs and desires. I trust you, and I love you, and you are so damn good at this I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk tomorrow. So if it was…um…okay for you too? Then, whenever you’re….lonely, or bored, or just…have an itch to scratch…I don’t see why we can’t be that for each other, you know?”

He frowns a little, then kisses her again.

“You’re never going to be just the remedy for an itch, or a temporary fix on a lonely night,” he says sternly. “That belittles you and insults me. You’re a beautiful, passionate woman. That you’re innocent of all the things I want to do to you, and yet you’re not some blushing, frightened virgin is one of the hottest combinations I’ve ever found. I’d like to be with you because I want to. Because I’m powerful attracted to you, baby girl, and teaching you about all of this would be an honor and a privilege. I’ll be that for you, you’re damn straight. All right?”

“That sounds perfect. But um…maybe we could wait a day or two? My backside’s starting to feel pretty sore and…Goddamn, Mike. I think maybe that weapon you’re packing ought to be declared lethal. I hope I don’t have to ride anywhere tomorrow! Or the next day. Maybe the day after that.”

He chuckles as he helps her climb down the ladder from the tower while she makes little ow, ow, ow noises.

“I don’t know,” he muses, putting his arm around her and tugging gently so that she leans against him as they stagger a little on their way back to base. “I’ll consider giving you a little time to recover, but you’d better make sure to be a very good girl.”

“Oh no. Nuh-uh. You wouldn’t,” she says nervously. He grins wickedly and pats her rather firmly on the bottom.

“Oh, I would. And I’d love every whimper, every soft little cry, every time you begged me please, Mike, please it hurts, when I pushed my cock slowly inside your sore little pussy, and I’d take you slow, but I’d take you, and kiss away your tears, and you’d cry harder when you came because it made all those aching, tender muscles clench down so hard, and it’d feel so good to me, so yeah. Oh yeah, I really would.”

She trips over her own feet and then shrieks delightedly when he scoops her up and carries her the rest of the way home. 


End file.
